When Form Becomes an Idol: How The 2x2 Institution Became Corrupt

When righteousness becomes ritual, power replaces purity, and faith becomes just another tool to control.

Apr 01, 2025

When Devotion Becomes Dangerous

There’s something sacred about the desire to build a faith community rooted in humility and sincerity. To gather as the early church did—simple, unadorned, focused on the pure gospel of Christ.

But somewhere along the way, that purity became poisoned. Instead of fostering true connection with God, the ministry itself became an idol—a towering structure built on fear, control, and loyalty to human authority rather than to God.

*Note: I would appreciate if this article was shared with as many workers as possible.*

And when an institution becomes an idol, it doesn’t just lead to misplaced loyalty—it becomes a breeding ground for corruption and abuse. In the case of the Two by Two Church, this idolatry didn’t just warp theology—it enabled an unimaginable evil to thrive under its roof.

This Article is the 3rd article in a 6-part Series on the failure of the 2x2 Church.

You can reach the other articles in the series here:

1 - When The Truth Breaks Your Heart

2 - When the Church Protects Power Instead of People

4 - When Leaders Become Wolves: The Reality of Grooming and Ministry Abuse

5 - The Weight of Darkness: How Silence Became a System That Protected Predators

6 - Reconstructing My Faith: Standing Firm While Exposing Evil

The Rise of a False God

When I first realized the ministry had become an idol, it felt like watching a monument I had defended my whole life crumble into dust.

Faith wasn’t supposed to feel like a transaction. It wasn’t supposed to be measured by how closely one adhered to a form or how well one aligned with a hierarchy.

But somewhere along the way, the very thing that was meant to point to God (our Ministry) became an idol in itself.

And those at the top became more than just leaders—they became gatekeepers, asserting their authority not just over doctrine but over people’s eternal destinies.

The foundation had shifted from grace to form, from Christ to control. And we didn’t see it happening because the change was subtle—a slow drift rather than a sudden plunge.

But when it became clear, it was like waking up from a nightmare, realizing that the very people we had trusted to shepherd us had built a golden calf out of their own authority.

When Men Become Gatekeepers to Heaven

Once the ministry became an idol, its leaders weren’t just seen as spiritual guides—they were treated as the very gatekeepers to heaven and arbiters of salvation.

Salvation itself became tied to submission to their authority.

The most dangerous form of idolatry is the one that masquerades as faithfulness.

In the Two by Two Church, the ministry itself was elevated to a sacred and unquestionable position—not just an expression of faith but a requirement for salvation.

To be excommunicated from the group wasn’t just a loss of community—it was perceived as a loss of salvation. The ministry became the mediator between man and God—a role that only Christ was ever meant to fill.

When Jesus died, the veil in the temple was torn in two (Matthew 27:51)—symbolizing that there was no longer a barrier between God and man.

But this ministry, in essence, put the veil back up. They reinserted themselves between the people and God, claiming divine authority that was never theirs to begin with.

When someone holds your eternal destiny in their hands, how easy is it to challenge them? How do you speak out when doing so might condemn your own soul? The answer for many was simple: You don’t. You can’t.

You submit, even when your conscience screams otherwise.

This unchecked power created a mafia-like loyalty structure where leaders promoted from within, silenced dissent, and demanded absolute allegiance. The more power they held, the more insulated they became. And as stories of abuse began to surface, the instinct wasn’t to address the evil—it was to protect the power.

When the Form Becomes the Focus

In their desire to emulate the New Testament Church, the Two by Two leadership unwittingly created a cult of form—one that prized outward conformity over genuine transformation. They turned a sincere desire to honor God into a rigid structure of rituals and traditions that became synonymous with salvation itself.

The form wasn’t inherently wrong. The idea of living simply, humbly, and with a commitment to authenticity is beautiful. But when form replaces grace, it ceases to be a means of worship and becomes an idol.

They claimed that the form was the only path to salvation—implying that believers outside their structure were eternally lost. Instead of celebrating the freedom that comes through Christ, they turned faith into a laborious, graceless performance.

And when you’re constantly performing, constantly striving to meet an unspoken standard of holiness, you’re left exhausted, afraid, and vulnerable to manipulation.

These twin idols—the ministry as the sole mediator of salvation and the form as the only path to God—together formed a stranglehold on the faith community, leaving no room for grace or true repentance.

Hierarchies That Breed Corruption

It wasn’t just that the ministry became an idol. It was that the structure of unchecked power corrupted those within it.

Like a political machine, the leadership became entrenched—self-protecting, self-perpetuating, and ruthlessly opposed to anything that threatened its authority.

“We make the decisions, because we’re appointed by God and led by his Spirit, and we keep each other accountable” is what one overseer said to a group of congregants asking questions about how they were going to choose the next Overseer of Washington State after the current one had been forced to step down, due to being an abuser.

The unspoken message was “You don’t have a say in who we appoint to positions of power, because WE are God’s servants”. The foxes guarding the henhouse.

When the story of Bruergate broke—a scandal involving an overseer whose hidden abuse came to light—the instinct wasn’t to address the sin. It wasn’t to bring healing or justice. It was to mitigate damage—to control the narrative and preserve the power structure at all costs.

Men whose lives were dedicated to preaching the gospel turned into managers of scandal, using their authority not to protect the flock but to shield themselves from accountability.

If there’s one thing the Bible teaches repeatedly, it’s that God despises hypocrisy—when religious leaders use their positions to manipulate, abuse, and deceive. And yet, here we were—watching men who preached about integrity and humility scramble to save face, not souls.

When Silence Becomes a Shield for Evil

One of the most insidious aspects of this corruption is how the power dynamics within the Two by Two Church allowed abuse to thrive unchecked. The ministry didn’t just become an idol—it became a fortress, protecting those who abused their power rather than the innocent people they were supposed to shepherd.

The “best case” scenario, is that “only” 1 in 5 ministers have been alleged to be perpetrators of sexual abuse.

Let that sink in—one out of every five men claiming to be a “servant of God” used their position to prey on the innocent. The scale of this evil is staggering. To make it even more disturbing, these numbers are only the ones that have come to light.

Countless more remain hidden in the shadows, protected by a system that prioritized reputation over righteousness.

They knew. Men in leadership knew. Stories were shared, concerns raised—and yet, nothing was done. Nine months of silence followed the discovery of evidence on the laptop of a deceased overseer.

Nine decades of abuse, and those who knew kept hiding the horror, while vulnerable souls remained in harm’s way.

The silence was not an accident, it was quiet containment instead of justice. It was power preservation. It was protecting the ministry as an institution, not the souls they were called to shepherd.

And in the weeks and months following the Bruergate scandal, when survivors began to speak out, not just the occasional lone victim, but THOUSANDS of survivors started to find their courage, raise their voices and demand accountability, the instinct of leadership wasn’t repentance or sorrow. It was suppression.

In some cases, those who dared to speak out were banned from conventions—ostracized, labeled as troublemakers, and effectively excommunicated for daring to challenge the status quo.

This is what happens when ministry becomes an idol. Protecting the institution became more important than protecting the flock. Power became the goal—truth became an inconvenience. And those who should have been the first to confront evil became the ones most invested in hiding it.

Where Is the Sackcloth and Ashes?

One of the most glaring absences in this entire crisis has been the lack of genuine repentance. Where are the overseers and workers falling on their knees, confessing their failures, and begging for forgiveness?

Ironically, one of the hallmarks of this fellowship has always been a “quiet and meek spirit”—a false sense of humility that prides itself on not drawing attention.

They’ve mistaken repression for righteousness.

They’ve convinced themselves that to publicly admit fault would be self-serving, as if true repentance would somehow detract from the image of godliness they so desperately cling to.

When the prophet Nathan confronted King David with his sin, David’s response was immediate and unguarded: “I have sinned against the Lord.” (2 Samuel 12:13)

He didn’t defend himself or make excuses. He didn’t try to preserve his reputation. He was broken and contrite.

Where is that spirit now? Instead of humble repentance, we see excuses and legal defenses. Instead of grief and Godly sorrow, we see tactical silence.

It’s as if the leadership has forgotten that true leadership means washing feet—not crushing dissent.

Instead of (metaphorical) ashes on their heads, there is polished denial. Instead of sackcloth, there are three-piece suits and practiced smiles. Instead of confession, there is the cold calculation of damage control.

Why has no overseer stood up with tears in his eyes and admitted to being complicit, to failing to protect the innocent, to putting power over people?

Why hasn’t anyone demonstrated the spirit of sackcloth and ashes—the willingness to be publicly broken in order to honor God and seek healing for the wounded?

It’s because humility would cost them their status. And for too many, that’s a price they’re unwilling to pay.

What’s Next?

If evil can wear a righteous face, how do we protect those who trust us to lead them to truth? If the ministry itself became an idol, it’s no surprise that it bred a system that protected predators rather than exposing them.

In the next article, article 4 of 6, we’ll confront the sinister reality of grooming and abuse hiding in plain sight—how predators manipulated trust and masked their intentions behind false righteousness.

Wrestling with Truth